Treasures (21 page)

He grinned. “I do all right. Enough for you not to worry about money. Enough for you to have anything you want.”

Wonderingly, she said, “I don’t want a lot, Eddy. I never have. This seems so strange. I can’t get used to it.”

The grin turned into a laugh. “You will. You’ll love it too.”

Eddy’s plans developed as rapidly as a roll of film unwinds. The apartment was magnificent, with paneled walls, marble fireplaces that worked, a far view of the East River, and a near view of private gardens. Pam, looking down at this green enclave, found it hard to understand how anyone could part with a place like this one.

“Divorced,” Eddy told her.

She gave a small mock shudder. “I don’t like the omen.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Divorce isn’t contagious. Besides, I’ve seen the woman. She’s fat and homely, so no wonder.” He surveyed the long drawing room.

“They want to sell the furniture, but we surely don’t want it. It’s garbage. Expensive garbage. Now, I’d have a cabinet, a pair maybe, on either side of the fireplace to
house my silver. The collection’s grown so that I’ve even got boxes under my bed.”

“That’s a handsome piano, though. I think it’s rosewood.”

“Hey, you’re right! You want to buy it?”

“I don’t play.”

“That doesn’t matter. It looks wonderful where it is. Enormous rooms need a piano. It’ll be a showpiece. Next to you. You’ll be the real showpiece.”

Sometime later he said thoughtfully, “You know, maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all for us to get married by ourselves. I’ve been thinking that a big wedding, even a small one, would be a problem for me too. I’ve told you about my sisters’ feud, and I don’t know how I could— It would be awkward, painful, to have them together. The whole thing hurts my heart, Pam. And they’re both such good people. You’ll see when you meet them. I want to fly out to Ohio with you soon to see Lara. You’ll fall in love with her. Everybody does.”

“Still, she’s being awfully stubborn, isn’t she?”

“Well, they both are. Neither one wants to give in or take back the rotten things she apparently said.” Eddy sighed. “Well, let’s get back to you and me. I just had a brainstorm. What about an elopement to Paris? Your mother’s pride is intact, my family problem is solved, and we have a great vacation. What do you say?”

“Why, I say yes,” Pam answered promptly. “Double yes.”

They were married at the American Church, attended by a young lawyer, a client of Eddy’s who with his wife
happened to be in Paris that week. Afterward, they had dinner at the Grand Véfour and returned to their suite at the Hotel Ritz. In the morning they walked out onto the Place Vendôme and in wonderful, slow leisure, at Van Cleef & Arpels, bought the diamond ring that, in their general haste, they had not gotten around to buying at home.

Pam knew Paris rather well, having been there frequently with her parents during the good times before her father’s death, and she led Eddy easily to all the sights from the Eiffel Tower to the Louvre. The fall season had begun, restoring the beautiful city after the summer lull to a thrilling life of concerts, theater, restaurants, gallery openings, and discotheques. Eddy and Pam were out every night at one or another of these.

Then they began to shop. She remembered where to look for antiques; they bought a Louis XVI cabinet, an ormolu clock, and some chairs. Eddy knew what he was buying, surprising the antiquarians in the shops and surprising himself also by the extent of his own knowledge, acquired in a relatively short few years. On the Île St. Louis at a small art gallery, they bought a Postimpressionist seascape of a beach at dusk with a group of young women sitting on the sand. It was Pam’s choice.

“It’s nice,” Eddy agreed, “but it’s the kind of thing you put in a bedroom or some little sitting room to enjoy in private. Frankly, in public rooms like the drawing or dining room, I want important art, things of museum quality.”

In total companionship the two of them rollicked through three splendid weeks. They walked, danced,
laughed, and thought in identical rhythms. And he was proud, swelling within, when men turned to glance at the healthy, tall young woman so unmistakably American, even in her new French clothes, with her long hair so casually worn, her confident, long stride, and her white, perfect teeth.

Occasionally, he caught the tail end of a question that trailed across his mind and as quickly vanished: Is this love, then? The thing they tell of?
Till death do us part … I can’t live without you.
… Well, yes, he decided, this must be it. But whatever it is, it’s wonderful.

He was supremely happy.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

“P
am’s going to a bridal shower, so I thought I’d spend the evening with you,” said Eddy, and added as he looked around Connie’s library, “The place looks beautiful. That’s a new lamp.”

“I treated myself. Can I fix you a drink?”

“A cup of hot coffee. I fought a real wind walking over here.”

His eyes followed his sister across the hall toward the kitchen. She wore a dark red velvet housecoat embroidered in gold thread, along with a pair of magnificent “earrings. Greek, he knew, and handmade. There was no mistaking either the design or the dark gleam of twenty-two-karat gold. They were most likely another “treat,” and Eddy had to smile. Connie took good care of herself. But shouldn’t she, after all? Thanks to him the settlement that Richard had given to her was growing ten times over; it was no fortune, but certainly it was more than enough to maintain a little place like this one in good style, and to dress Connie in high style.

Pam would never think to buy a housecoat like that. She was most comfortable in a sweater and skirt. Any
treasures Pam possessed had been brought home by him, as almost the entire contents of the new apartment had been. Pam’s two interests were horses and sex. Well, that was all right. He liked horses well enough, and as for sex, just let her keep on loving it the way she did, as long as she never used her wiles on anybody else. But ever since that conversation in her mother’s house, she had given him not one moment’s unquiet. Some other young wives indulged in mild, harmless flirting even when their husbands were present, but not Pam. All that sort of thing she saved for him. Eddy’s smile, broadening at certain recollections, turned into a rather joyous

“You look like a Cheshire cat,” said Connie, coming back with a tray. “What are you smirking at?”

“Thinking of my wife. Being happy. She leaves me at loose ends when she goes out.”

“For one night? Lucky you! Loose ends is where I am most nights.”

The disconsolate tone fitted ill with Connie’s physical brilliance, the sheen of hair and skin, the scarlet mouth, the scarlet tips of the long white fingers. But the fingers were tensely clasped together on her knee, Eddy saw, and there were two vertical trouble lines between her eyes.

“Where are all your friends?” he asked. “You had so many.”

“Bitsy and her crowd? They’d have lunch with me if I had time, which I don’t because I’m in the shop, but they’re all married, and they don’t want an extra woman around at night.”

“Not when she looks like you, that’s for sure. You’re a menace, you are.”

“Well, thank you. Oh, I’ve been going out some, you know that, but there’s really been nobody who amounts to anything. They all just want to sleep with you, and what I want, plainly speaking, is to be married.”

“It’s too bad—” Eddy began, and stopped before completing a remark that would be both tactless and pointless.

“Too bad about Richard, you meant to say? Yes, it was nice living with him. We really had everything except a good love life.” And with a candor she had never shown before, she said, “And if it hadn’t been for the other thing—the men—I guess I could have put up with that too. The fact is, I’m not very passionate.”

In spite of himself Eddy was embarrassed. A pity! He wondered whether she knew, whether it was even possible for her to know, what she was missing.

“Yes,” she continued, “he was good to me, and I feel sorry for him. He still remembers my birthday. Isn’t that sort of sad? Birthday and Christmas cards. Never misses. And I do the same.”

“Well, that’s nice. Civilized. But there’s no reason not to be, is there?”

It occurred to him as always that it would also be civilized if she and Lara were to do something about their sorry situation, when Connie inquired whether he ever saw Richard.

“I handle his investments by telephone. But I did happen to run into him on Madison Avenue a week or
two ago, and we had a quick lunch together. He looked the same as always.”

“What did you talk about?”

“He asked about you, and I told him you were doing very well. That’s all. Then we got onto money. I’m getting him eleven percent on his investments, four to one on his tax shelters, deductions, and taxes deferred to infinity. So naturally, he’s happy. He got a big bonus this year and handed me the whole thing to take care of.”

“It all sounds terribly complicated.”

“Not really. Someday, if you’re really interested, I’ll explain it to you.”

Connie laughed. “Except for the bottom line you know I’m not really interested.”

“I thought not.”

Her laugh was delightful, and the gesture that went with it, the uplifted chin, was charming. Really it was too bad that such a woman should still be alone. And suddenly, for no logical reason, he had an idea.

“Pam and I should have a housewarming,” he said. “A real party, a real smash. What do you think?”

“That’s up to Pam. It’s a lot of work, and you haven’t been there six months. Your living room isn’t even furnished except for the piano.”

“All the more space for dancing. When it’s finished, we won’t be able to dance.”

Eddy was already planning. He ought to get up a whole list of clients and potential clients. But the main thing was to gather a few eligibles for Connie. Off the top of his head he couldn’t think of any, but with a little
effort he surely would, and Pam would have some ideas too. She liked Connie. Of course, Pam liked most people. But Connie was more than likable, and they got along very well.

“Yes,” he said, “we’ll have a party. Will you help Pam with invitations and stuff?”

“Of course I will. And I’m awfully glad that everything’s going so well for you, Eddy.” Connie laid an affectionate hand on her brother’s knee.

It was sleeting outdoors, and the cold was intense, so that in contrast, the apartment was a southern garden, fragrant and warm. Connie arrived early just as preparations for the party were being completed. In the foyer, which was as large as her own living room, the walls were lined with flowering trees in marble tubs. The staircase leading to the second floor of the duplex was decked with smilax, hung in ropes and garlands. Casual, overflowing bouquets of roses and freesia stood on tables and mantels in the library and the dining room, in Pamela’s sitting room and Eddy’s den. Back in the immense drawing room, still unfurnished except for the white silk curtains on the tall windows, the caterers had arranged their gilt chairs and tables in a circle, leaving space for those who wanted to dance.

Connie stood contemplating this magnificence. She felt awestruck. That was the only way to describe her feelings. Richard had been generous to her, there could be no doubt of that, but you could fit her apartment five times over into this one and still have space left. She walked back into the library. Its walls of French boiserie
were precious. The needlepoint rug was handmade. Above the fireplace a new painting had been hung: a Sargent? Connie had taken her courses at the museum very seriously and knew what she was looking at. The pearllike flesh, the dusky velvet, the woman’s very pose, were unmistakable. This was what you could do when you had
real
money. How ever had Eddy managed to achieve it all? Again, she was overcome with awe and a profound respect for his intelligence and energy.

“Admiring the lady?” Eddy inquired from the doorway.

“Of course. When did she arrive?”

“Just in time for tonight. Isn’t she a beauty?”

“You don’t have an art adviser? So many people do.”

“Why? What for?”

“Well, to keep his eyes open for prospects all over the world. You surely don’t have the time or the contacts.”

“I read,” Eddy said. “I read everything. Right now I’m learning about Orientals. I never knew there was so much to know about rugs. Sarouk, Ispahan—” He threw up his hands. “My God, the world is full of so many kinds of art! Books—I bought a set of Dickens first editions the other day with illustrations by Phiz. And how do you like this lamp?” he asked, pointing out a bronze flower on a thin bronze stem. “Art Nouveau.”

“I know. It’s very lovely.”

“Cost me almost two hundred thousand,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, I know it’s vulgar to talk prices, but I’m only telling you and no one else. Now come look at this—” he began when Pam interrupted him.

“Darling, do leave your sister alone. When Eddy gets
enthusiasms, I don’t have to tell you how he throws himself into them with all his strength. I’m afraid he’ll be worn out before he has these twelve rooms filled up. Connie, you look beautiful as always.”